


Heaven on Earth

by HandsAcrossTheSea



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First Kiss, First Time, Hand Jobs, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Porn with Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-20
Updated: 2013-06-20
Packaged: 2017-12-15 14:41:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/850721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HandsAcrossTheSea/pseuds/HandsAcrossTheSea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This author's take on how Sam and Dean started sleeping together.  One shot story, a sort of prelude to all of my other Wincest, unless otherwise stated.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Heaven on Earth

**Author's Note:**

> Because I woke up this morning and had author's itch and I've wanted to write something like this for awhile.

No one really paid attention to the two boys sitting sitting in the corner booth of the bar, and honestly they preferred it that way.

If Sam had to describe a word for how he felt right now, it would be devastated. What he thought would be the love of his life, Jessica, was now buried in the cold ground, dead to the world. She had died, much in the same manner that their mother had. Of course, Sam was just a baby, and didn't remember it.

But this was a hurt like he couldn't remember. He felt both empty and full of guilt, despair, and an ache in his heart that he wished would kill him, because it would be better than what he felt.

At least Dean was there.

Dean had gone into full big brother mode, trying his best to make Sam feel better. Unfortunately, that meant “take Sam to a bar and let him drink his feelings.” Since Sam didn't really have a whole lot of other options at the moment, he had let Dean take him. Dean didn't even try to flirt with the bartender as he ordered them several shots of whiskey. Dean had downed three while Sam was still focusing on his first, looking for an answer in the amber colored liquid. Dean laid a hand on Sam's arm to bring him back to reality.

“Drink's getting warm Sam.”

Sam looked up at him. “Hm?”

“Drink's getting warm.” Dean tried to put on an easy smile, but failed.

“Sorry Dean it's just....” A swell of emotion bubbled up from inside him, and he dipped his head. He was not going to cry again, especially not in front of Dean.

“Sam look, I know it sucks but you gotta talk to me man. I know you – you'll keep it bottled up and let it eat at you until you do something stupid. You've been closed off for two weeks now.”

Sam took a deep breath. “Learned to do that from you, you know.”

Dean scoffed. “Never said it was healthy. But Sam, I'm willing to listen. I know that it hurts. You don't think I've experienced the same sort of crap before because believe me, I have.”

Sam finally looked him in the eye. “Dean this isn't your pain to deal with. It's mine.”

“Sam, let me help. I'm serious, man. Not worth losing you over too.”

Sam swallowed down the tears and nodded. “I don't know what to do.”

Dean wasn't sure what told him to reach out and put a palm to the side of Sam's face, but he did it anyway. He knew from when they were younger that it helped calm Sam down, so he did it now. Sam stopped breathing for a moment and held Dean's gaze with his own. “It's gonna be okay Sam, I promise.”

Sam didn't really feel the words, but it gave him a little comfort all the same.

. . .

The worst part was trying to sleep.

The nightmares got worse and worse with each night, but they all ended with Jess dying. Sometimes it felt real, only for Sam to remember that it was, and he would wake up sweating, his sleep clothes soaked with perspiration. He hadn't slept a full night in over a month, and it was showing more and more with each passing day. Dean noticed of course, but Sam tried twice as hard when they were hunting, not wanting to look weak in front of Dean. He had already let down one person – he wasn't going to do the same to another.

That night, he when he woke up, the tears started again. His body shook, wracked with sobs. He kept his face buried in a pillow so that Dean wouldn't hear him.

“Sam?”

He heard Dean sit up in the bed next to him, and then come to settle behind him. What surprised Sam even more was when Dean put his arms around him and pulled him back down to the bed. “I've got you Sam.” Dean was holding him just like when they were younger and Sam had been scared in the night. “I'm right here.”

Eventually Sam's emotions subsided, and he fell into a dreamless sleep.

. . .

Sam woke up the next morning, feeling slightly more rested than before. Dean wasn't there, a note on the bedside table saying that he had gone for coffee and donuts. Not Sam's ideal breakfast, but right now he didn't care.

He went to the motel room's dingy bathroom, peering into the stained mirror. He noticed that he looked pale, and the bags under his eyes were far more pronounced than usual, made worse by worry and restlessness. No wonder Dean kept looking at him with such concern. Sam swore at that moment that he would try to sleep better, so that Dean had one less thing to worry about.

He was drying himself off after a short, unsatisfying shower when he heard Dean open the door and yell “Breakfast!” Sam hauled up his jeans and slung his shirt over his shoulder, and stepped from the bathroom. Dean looked to Sam as he emerged, and held up a cup of coffee. “Even got caramel frappe mocha whatever for you. And here -” He tossed Sam an egg sandwich. “Got you that too. Figured a little protein would do you good.” Dean sat down on the edge of his bed, fishing for a donut.

Sam sat across from him. “Thanks, by the way.”

Dean paused. “Sure thing Sammy.”

Sam smiled a little. “It's Sam.”

They ate in silence.

. . .

Sam thought he was coping better, but the ache in his heart still hadn't subsided.

Three months back on the road hunting with Dean was enough to keep his thoughts at bay while they were on the job, but it was the downtime that got to him. He tried to distract himself as much as possible, with research, looking for the next hunt, whatever he could do to keep the dark thought away that threatened to overwhelm him.

They were in Oregon, the sun setting in the distance. They were looking for a werewolf, and they felt like they were close to finding it. Sam had his gun at the ready, Dean right next to him. Something had changed between them. Dean wasn't even ribbing and teasing at Sam like he had before, instead showing a great deal of care towards him. It was like he was handling glass, afraid that it would break apart at the slightest upset.

The beast came at them out of nowhere, and Sam whirled around, firing one, two, three shots at it as it tackled Dean. However, thanks to Sam's quick reflexes, the worst Dean got was a facefull of rancid saliva and his shirt and pants covered in blood. They burned it right there, the smell of roasting flesh and blood in the air turning their stomachs.

Watching it burn, Sam turned to Dean. “Dean?”

“Yeah, Sam?”

Sam swallowed, trying to think of how he wanted to phrase what he wanted to say next. “The way you've been treating me lately – why? I'm not going to break. I just feel like it.”

Dean didn't meet Sam's gaze. “Because you've had enough pain lately Sam. You've been beating up enough on yourself without my help. What, you miss the noogies and spoons stuck in your mouth while you sleep?”

Sam smiled. “Maybe a little, yeah.” He wanted to say because it felt normal between them, but he didn't.

“Priority number one is taking care of you Sam, so that's what I'm doing.”

“Dean it's been three months. I think you can be a little rough with me. Hell I've missed you man.”

Dean turned and looked at him. “Really?”

“Of course Dean. Just being around you again... it's helped.” Sam laid a hand on Dean's shoulder. “Even if you still take up all the hot water.” Dean couldn't help himself and pulled Sam into a tight hug. “Missed you too baby boy.” The nickname from when they were younger brought back a flood of memories to Sam's mind.

Dean released him and looked at the burning corpse. “I think we're about done here. What do you say we get a pizza when we're done here Sam, just kick back for awhile?”

Sam nodded. “I'd like that.”

. . .

Since Sam wasn't covered in as much blood, he was the one who answered the door for the pizza while Dean showered. It smelled good, the scent of pepperoni and sausage wafting through the room as he carried it to set it down on the table. He wanted to wait for Dean, but he couldn't help himself and opened the box to pick off a pepperoni, savoring the greasy topping as he cracked open a beer.

Dean stepped from the shower, clad in his sleepwear. “Already here, huh?”

Sam offered the box to him. “A record, if anything. I think there's a Van Damme movie on T.V., want to watch it?”

They watched _Hard Target_ , Sam fighting off visions of Jess burning on the ceiling and Dean holding him while he slept.

. . .

Later that night, Sam woke up with a loud “No!” This time, he saw Dean burning on the ceiling, crying out Sam's name, calling for help, but Sam was tied to the bed, unable to move as a possessed Jess held a huge knife over him, threatening to carve out his heart. Out of all the dreams he had had, this one was the one that upset him the most. Dean had hear him cry out, and immediately he was right there, hold Sam's face in his hands, saying “Sam, look at me.” It took a few tries for Sam to hear it but he did. “De... Dean.”

And that's when he broke, three months of pain and guilt came rushing out, hot, fat, tears that ran down his face and onto the blankets. He put his face in Dean's shoulder, and he cried.

Dean held him tight, rubbing up and down his spine, just letting Sam cry, not saying anything. He had no idea how to comfort Sam, save for hold him there, and let his emotions wash over him. Dean ran a hand through Sam's hair, knowing that this too would make him feel better.

Sam picked up his head, eyes full of tears, face streaked with moisture, and stared right into Dean's eyes.

That's when something deep inside Dean's brain, a voice that he thought he had buried a long time ago, said “kiss him.”

And Dean did.

It took Sam completely by surprise, and it took a moment for his brain to comprehend what was happening. Dean was kissing him, right on the mouth, and one part of Sam's brain said no, it was wrong, what the fuck are you doing Dean, get off of me, don't touch me.

That part lost to the voice that said kiss him back.

Sam did, and he tentatively put a hand to the side of Dean's head. Dean leaned in a little more, trying to deepen the kiss, and Sam opened his mouth to him, Dean's tongue sliding in, tasting faintly of toothpaste and the pizza they had eaten earlier.

It was overwhelming, and Sam closed his eyes, letting himself relax into the kiss, but before he could any more, Dean broke it, fear written all over his face.

“Sam... I'm... I'm sorry. Please don't-” Dean words were cut off as Sam kissed him back, and his big hands came up to rest on the back of Dean's head and neck, pulling him down to the bed, saying that it was okay, that this was okay, that Sam wasn't going to leave.

This time, the kiss was much longer, and it wasn't difficult for Dean to realize that maybe, just maybe, that this had a chance.

. . .

Dean woke up in Sam's arms.

They were both still clothed, indicating that nothing had happened last night save for about an hour of Sam's tongue in his mouth, whispered promises of not leaving, and Dean saying “Don't cry baby boy” over and over again.

Dean's eyes went wide as he realized that Sam was hard, and that he was too. He ever so carefully extracted himself from Sam's embrace, and went to the bathroom. He splashed cold water over his face in the sink, still not sure if last night had happened. That's when he saw the bruise that Sam had sucked into his neck.

Yeah, last night definitely happened.

“Sorry about that.” Dean turned and saw Sam standing in the doorway, his head down, a careful look in his eyes. “I guess I got a little carried away... I'm sorry Dean. It won't... it won't happen again.”

Dean turned and embraced Sam again. “It's okay Sammy.” He put a hand in Sam's hair, thinking to himself _it's so soft._ “I'm not sorry it happened.” Hearing the words come out of his own mouth made Dean realize that maybe he wanted this a little too much.

“Are we okay Dean?”

Dean nodded.

“Good. Because I wanted to do this again.” Sam crossed over to Dean and put his arms around him, tilting Dean's head up and putting his mouth to his, saying against it “I need you.”

This time, the kiss was much harder, Sam's lips pressing fervently against Dean's, and Dean's body responded in kind. Sam put an arm around Dean's waist and drew him close, closing the distance between them, and that's when Dean felt Sam's erection pressing against his thigh, and he rubbed himself against it, Sam moaning into his mouth, a deep, wanting sound that Dean immediately decided he wanted to hear again. He reached down a hand, placing it right above the waistband of Sam's pajama bottoms. Sam broke the kiss for just a moment to say “It's okay.” Dean reached into Sam's pants and gripped him, thinking _oh my God Sam is HUGE_ as he fisted Sam's cock, feeling moisture gathering at the end of it.

Sam took away his hands from Dean's body to push his pants down, and then did the same to Dean, still kissing him, and he mirrored Dean's actions, stroking Dean up and down slowly. He realized that it had been three months since he had last been touched intimately, and Dean's hand was drawing him closer and closer to climax. Maybe it was the fact that it was Dean doing it, the fact that his body had been neglected for so long, or maybe it's because deep down this is what he wanted all along, but he came, thick white spurts of come erupting over Dean's hand, splattering the worn tile under them, and Dean came right behind him, warm wetness suddenly all over Sam's hand, and he didn't stop until Dean hissed from being overstimulated and pulled his hips away.

They finally broke their kiss, and Sam was the first to speak. “Sorry.”

“For what, Sammy?”

“That it didn't last longer. It's just....” Sam dipped his head, afraid that he had disappointed Dean.

Dean put his hand under Sam's chin. “You did just fine baby boy.” Dean kissed him again, far more gently this time. Yeah, Sam could get used to that. “We have plenty of time.”

. . .

Later that night, Sam lay with his head on Dean's chest, both of them naked, a dull ache through his body. Dean had made sweet, slow love to him, full of the caring that Sam had needed, and Sam had come three times, crying out Dean's name on his lips. It was the best he had felt in a really, really long time.

And he didn't want it to end.

“Dean?”

Dean was running his hands through Sam's hair, deciding that this too was something he wanted to do again and again. “Yeah?”

“I want this.”

“Want what Sammy?”  
“Us. This. Being together. I don't.... please tell me this isn't a one time thing.”

Dean drew his head up and looked right into his eyes. “Only if you don't want it to be Sammy. Because I really, really want this.”

“Me too Dean. Really.” Sam kissed him, slow and tender.

It kind of felt like heaven on earth.


End file.
